


Sentimental Value

by Not_You



Series: Charismatic Minifauna [3]
Category: Nero Wolfe - Rex Stout
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Archie's ridiculous pimp-ass wallet, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, for Wolfe anyway, sort of, the league of frightened men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:25:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3385058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie and Bernadette have a bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scott's great egret daemon was the first one to show it, wobbling on the floor beside Scott's chair and trying to right herself with her wings even as I suddenly struggled with the easy task of passing him a cigarette. I barely remember the two of us slumping to the floor right there, but I woke up halfway across the dining room and pointed toward the door. It was dark, and Bernadette was licking my face with her sandpaper tongue, growling, "Archie. Archie, get up, goddammit!"

Bernadette usually tries to be a lady and not swear even when I do, so even if I had felt all right I would've known something was horribly wrong. And I did not feel even a little bit all right. I crawled along until I found a wall, Bernadette trying to use her whiskers to help me. At last we found one and I put my shoulder to it and we managed to ooze our way along to the phone. I hauled it down to call Wolfe, and it took me a while to get through and then to recognize Fritz on the other end. When he got it through my head that Wolfe was gone, that someone had come for him and that he had gone, I let the whole mess drop and started to cry. Usually when I'm feeling bad, Bernadette will purr at me and try to help, but all we could think about was Wolfe being gone. I couldn't even pick up the phone again, and Bernadette just groaned the way a sick cat does, low and miserable.

God knows what would have happened if I had been left to myself, but eventually the pounding on the door registered, and I could lurch up just long enough to let in two concerned citizens who walked on me and then stood around debating how drunk I was until I was able to make enough noise to let them know that I was a lot worse off than drunk and that they should get a doctor.

I got some help back to the kitchen, where Scott was curled up on the floor next to his egret, one limp hand resting on her outstretched wing. There was a cool draft, because I had apparently chucked something straight through the pane before I keeled over. As I was absorbing that and struggling to get my head together, Bernadette mumbled something to me about our card case, the one Wolfe had given us. I fumbled around for it, and when I realized it was missing I started to cry again in front of God and everybody. I couldn't even care. I just picked Bernadette up and hid my face in her fur as they tried to slap Scott awake, the doctor's little terrier daemon gripping the egret by one wing and shaking her.

We had a fight with the doctor about giving me anything on top of whatever Dora Chapin had hit me with, the terrier growling and Bernadette hissing, her tail puffed up like a bottle brush. Bernadette is a big, husky cat, and she was mad enough to scratch his eyes out. I think it showed.


	2. Chapter 2

Once it got through my thick head that I couldn't really do anything about anything, all I wanted was to go home. I was lurching to the phone to call Fritz when it rang. I answered, and it was Wolfe, sounding picky and peevish in his attempt to get through to Mr. Chapin's apartment. I had to take a long moment to answer him straight, and Bernadette was whimpering enough to give us away. He told me where he was, and asked me to come get him.

To this day I don't know how we drove. I couldn't even operate the elevator right, but somehow we got to the garage without hitting anything. The next day I looked over the roadster from end to end, but by some extra ration of divine grace there wasn't a scratch on it. I explained things to Steve as best I could, and he grinned at me and took over. It was good to be able to rest my head on the cushions, but I didn't shut my eyes. I kept them as wide open as I could, trying to breathe and not do anything embarrassing, like crying or throwing up.

"Here we are, mister," Steve said, his raccoon daemon reaching over with those little hand-paws to gently shake Bernadette. I said I could navigate and then nearly made a liar out of myself on the way into the Bronx River Inn, but I got through the door eventually.

Dora Chapin was sitting with her back to me, but that grim little shrike daemon of hers saw me coming, and Wolfe greeted me with what was for him, effusive relief. Aletheia crossed the back of his neck to get a better look (or smell, or something) at us, as I took his coat and stick off of the chair next to him and slumped down. I was still hanging onto Bernadette like a kid with a teddy bear, and Aletheia came all the way down his sleeve to reach out and tap Bernadette's nose with her pedipalps. Bernadette flicked her tail and purred like an idiot, and then I fell over. Later Wolfe said it happened too fast for him to keep me from hitting my head on the table. I don't remember it at all.

I don't really remember the ride home, either. There's a fuzzy impression, though, the kind of thing you get when you're passed out but your daemon wakes up for a moment. I was in the backseat of the sedan, with my head in what passes for Wolfe's lap. His gut takes up most of the room, but it was soft against the back of my head, and comforting. His thigh made a good pillow, and despite how hands-off he generally is, he was stroking my hair. It felt good, and through Bernadette's eyes I could see Aletheia, who was staying close, sometimes reaching out with a pedipalp or one long leg.

Dora Chapin had used my card case to prove to Wolfe that she had me in her clutches, and the heartless cad only gave it back to me after we had resolved the whole matter of the League of the White Feather. I managed to take it with a steady hand, even if Bernadette let out a loud trill and rolled around on the rug like a fool.


End file.
